A Hero's Battle
by briannaelise07
Summary: Following Clark's return home from Metropolis, everything in his life seems to spiral out of control. Chloe remains loyal as he struggles to cope with a blindsiding tragedy, and he falls hard for her. When a routine rescue goes wrong for Clark, will their relationship survive it? (A few chapters have been rewritten or restructured, so you should reread the whole story. Thanks!)
1. The Stubborn Bow-Tie

Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or any of the well-known characters associated with the show. However, I altered certain events … just because I can! Furthermore, some events happen out of order in this fic than how they occurred on the show. This fic takes place about a year after his return from Metropolis, so Clark is a senior in high school.

Summary: Following Clark's return home from Metropolis, everything in his life seems to spiral out of his control. Chloe stays loyally by his side as he struggles to cope with a blindsiding tragedy, and somewhere along the way, he falls hard for her. When a routine rescue goes wrong for Clark, will their relationship be able to survive it? (The plot has been restructured in a couple of chapters, so if you have been following the story, you should read it from the very beginning. Thanks!)

Clark Kent yanked out his tie in frustration for the third consecutive time. He didn't understand why he was so nervous; Chloe was his best friend, and he was taking her to the prom. Big deal? Wrapping the uncooperative black material around his neck yet again, he set about completing the simple, though seemingly impossible task of properly dressing himself. He sighed in defeat as his uncoordinated hands failed to comply with his desire to create a presentable bow tie. He stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror that was leaning precariously against his oak desk.

For a moment, he allowed his mind to drift and pretend that the last few months hadn't happened. He closed his eyes, imagining that she was still here. He could clearly see her gentle blue eyes smiling at him as she tucked a fiery-red strand behind her ear. A scene bled into formation behind his eyes, and he lost himself in the vision's comforting familiarity.

 _"Okay, Martha. I think we got enough photos to last for a lifetime," Jonathan teased, laughing as his wife swatted him, "Besides you don't want them to be late for their senior prom."_

 _Clark and Chloe exchanged amused glances. He wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer. "You look beautiful," he whispered, allowing his breath to ghost across her neck._

 _Martha almost melted at the sight before her and took another photo, smiling as her husband rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, I'm done. Have fun you two!" she called as they sprinted out the door. They ambled along the driveway, stopping a few feet from the porch to share a quick kiss. A light flashed, and they peered at the sky, before continuing on the short journey._

 _"Jonathan, what are you doing?" Martha demanded, handing him a cup of fresh coffee as she sipped her own. Jonathan jumped guiltily from his perch on the porch railing, camera held aloft in his hand._

 _"Nothing, just getting some fresh air," he stated casually._

 _Martha raised an eyebrow. "Right... Well, I'm gonna need the camera back; I need to charge it," she said, smiling knowingly._

As if on cue, Chloe's heartbeat filled his ears, ending his fantasy and blocking out the everyday sounds of the farm. He found comfort in the accelerated, excited rhythm, realizing she was just as nervous as he was. Her footsteps interrupted his meditation as she ascended to his loft. He caught her silhouette in the glass as she approached him and breathed out a slightly raspy, "Wow." " _Y_ _ou've fallen hard for her, man,_ " a voice whispered from deep within his subconscious.

"Admiring the view, Farmboy? And I thought you were modest about your appearance," she quipped.

"Actually, I was admiring someone more petite and of the fairer sex. Chloe, you look beautiful," he said, turning to face her. Clark's eyes drifted across the silky pale pink strapless gown that clung to her curves in all the right places. The beaded heart shaped neck-line revealed a modest amount of cleavage, but not enough to divert his attention from the natural beauty that illuminated from the soft features of her face.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she replied, blushing.

He smiled at her, fidgeting with his unfinished tie. "Chloe... Would you mind helping me? I just haven't...My mom always used to..." he struggled through the lump in his throat, but was unable to finish.

"Clark, it's okay. I'd love to." She glided toward him, until they were only inches apart. She smelled so wonderful and inviting - like fresh apples and spring time. His heart raced as she reached for the tie. Her hands moved almost too quickly for the human eye to see, and in seconds, she was finished. He felt a twinge of disappointment when she stepped back to admire her work.

"Perfect," she mused as her eyes roamed skyward to study his face.

He got lost in her vibrant green eyes, overwhelmed by the warmth and affection swimming in their depths.

"Absolutely perfect," he agreed.


	2. Lose You

Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or any of the well-known characters associated with the show. However, I altered certain events … just because I can! Furthermore, some events happen out of order in this fic than how they occurred on the show. This fic takes place about a year after his return from Metropolis, so Clark is a senior in high school.

As they made their way toward the famous red Kent truck, Chloe turned slightly to glance at the warm, yellow farmhouse.

"How's your dad doing?" she asked, softly. Clark stiffened beside her, and she reached out, stroking his hand in reassurance. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feather light touches of her pale fingertips.

"I don't know. He won't talk to me about it. I just... I'm worried about him. It's like he expects her to walk through the door any second now. It's hard seeing him like this. And I don't know what to do to help him anymore," he finished, breathlessly.

Chloe squeezed his hand as they approached the passenger side of his father's truck. He opened the door for her, and she reluctantly let go of his hand to slide in to the worn, leather seats. He sprinted to the other side, remembering belatedly that he forgot the keys inside the kitchen. The wind picked up suddenly, and smoky clouds loomed and swirled ominously overhead.

"Chlo, I left the keys in the house. Be back in a sec!" he said, jogging toward the front porch.

He braced himself for what he might find as he gently pushed the screen door open. His gut clenched at the sight before him.

"Dad, dad are you alright?" he exclaimed, shaking the prone figure draped limply across the couch. The man in question mumbled incoherently, and the scent of whiskey penetrated Clark's sensitive nostrils.

Sighing, Clark rose from his crouched position and headed toward the partition separating the living room from the kitchen. Once he crossed the threshold, he eyed his surroundings carefully, spotting the half empty bottle of Jim Bean sitting on the white marble counter near the sink. Setting his jaw in determination, he strode over to the offending beverage and poured the amber liquid down the drain. Once the task was finished, he tossed the glass in the trash underneath the sink.

Turning the faucet on, he splashed cold water on his face to keep his impending emotions at bay when he felt someone embrace him from behind. He shut his eyes tight, trying to maintain his composure and almost broke when her lands left his waist and begin to caress his back with soothing, circular motions.

"Clark..." Chloe croaked, her voice thick with emotion.

That was his undoing, and he spun to face her, burrowing his damp face in the blonde wavy locks flowing against her neck. She continued to console him with her delicate hands, and his shoulders began to shake with barely contained sobs.

"She's gone and now I'm losing him, too." he managed in a choked whisper.


	3. Past Demons

Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or any of the well-known characters associated with the show. However, I altered certain events … just because I can! Furthermore, some events happen out of order in this fic than how they occurred on the show. This fic takes place about a year after his return from Metropolis, so Clark is a senior in high school.

6 months ago...

 _Clark stood on the doorstep of his childhood home, finding strength in the arm his father had protectively wrapped around his broad shoulders. After all those months spent in Metropolis numbing the pain of knowing his actions caused the death of his unborn brother or sister, he was finally home. He hesitated upon entering, feeling the grief that he had buried bubbling to the surface. He x-rayed through the weather-worn wooden door, spotting his mother sleeping peacefully on the couch. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that her features looked pale and withdrawn, while her frame was alarmingly thin. Guilt squeezed his heart like a vice, and his breaths quickened and he soon began to hyperventilate._

 _"What have I done to her dad?" he managed in a harsh whisper. The world began to dip and fade before him, colors blurring in and out of focus as if he was peering through a faulty telescope._

 _He stumbled back, his head pounding from the lack of oxygen. His father steered him to the porch swing, gently pushing him by the shoulders into a sitting position. He kneeled before him, grasping his powerful hands into his own, squeezing reassuringly._

 _"Clark, you're having a panic attack. Look at me, son." he urged softly. Clark obeyed reluctantly, his breathing becoming more ragged while unshed tears burned in his piercing blue eyes._

 _"You need to calm down." he continued in a soothing voice, placing his son's palms over his chest as he took deep, slow breaths._

 _"Now, you need to slow your breathing. Take a deep breath in and out just like me. In... and... Out... In... and... Out... That's right. Follow my example."_

 _Eventually, his breathing returned to normal, and he leaned his head back in exhaustion._

 _"Clark, I need you to hear me, okay. What happened to the baby was not your fault, and this is not your fault, either."_

 _"But..."_

 _"No, son. Listen to me. Your mother's illness was not your doing. A few hours after you left, we got the results of her MRI to see if your mom had any bleeding as a result of hitting her head when the truck flipped. He noticed a dark spot that he thought was a benign tumor formed due to the increase of hormones from her pregnancy."_

 _Clark's heart sped up as he let this sink in. "But, if it's benign, we have nothing to worry about right?" he asked, hopefully._

 _Jonathan let out a weary sigh. "He had hoped that was the case. But he was wrong. He sent us to a neurologist in Metropolis - a Dr. Hamilton - to make sure, and his tests showed that it was cancerous. He started Martha on an alternating treatment of radiation and chemo, but it didn't work as well in shrinking the tumor as he had predicted, making surgery too risky. We realized she may not have much time. That's why Chloe told me where to find you, and why I used green kryptonite to bring you home. I didn't know how else to rid you of the red kryptonite ring."_

 _Clark turned his head away from him in shame for leaving them to deal with so much on their own for 2 months. Jonathan stood up and pulled his son to him, and he automatically relaxed against his familiar embrace, shaking uncontrollably. Clark's head rested under his father's chin, and he spoke softly into his tussled black hair. "Son, we love you so much. And you can't fix this. We don't expect you too. You are our son in every way that counts. You found us in that field, giving us hope when we were just about ready to give up on ever having kids. We need you here with us. I need you here. I can't do this without you."_

Following his return to Smallville, he and Chloe grew closer, while he and Lana drifted further apart. He rarely left the farm, taking on the responsibilities of maintaining the fields, caring for the animals, and making necessary repairs to keep the equipment up and running. He also helped his father with the importing of feed and other supplies in order to keep the farm prosperous and the exporting of fresh produce to the community. In weeks, he was capable of running the farm single-handedly thanks to his super strength, speed, and his above-average analytic mind. He was usually finished with the chores and financial duties just before sun-down, allowing his father to care for his mother during the day, while Clark kept vigil by her bedside at night.

Lana spent most nights with him, and after his mother succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep, they retired to the loft, where Clark would keep his hearing attuned to her heart beat, so he could know if she was in any distress. He was often distracted, and though Lana tried to engage him in conversation, he only half-heartedly contributed. He was often too physically and emotionally drained to even string a coherent sentence together. One night about 2 weeks before his mother's death, Lana couldn't bear the silence anymore and she lashed out.

 _"Clark, please talk to me! I'm worried about you! Your mother wouldn't want you to be wasting away like this. It's not healthy."_

 _"Lana, I can't do this right now. I don't have the strength to argue with you."_

 _"Why can't you just be honest with me about how you feel? I'm sick of being kept at a distance. Even before your mother was sick, you were keeping something from me - never fully able to trust me."_

 _When she received only silence from him, she continued. "I wish you would just open up to me. Maybe I can help. I know how it feels to lose a parent, Clark - both parents."_

 _"I know, Lana, but it's not the same thing." Clark muttered._

 _"Excuse me?" Lana squeaked, shock evident in her voice. "How can you say that?"_

 _"You didn't have to watch your parents suffer and die slowly while you were powerless to do anything to stop their pain. They're death was instant, not prolonged in agony." he said, swiftly, the words tasting bitter on his tongue._

After that day, she visited him less and less, and he really couldn't blame her. Even though there was truth in what he told her, he had purposely hurt her, and he hated himself for it. She was trying to help him, and he repaid her by pushing her away. A sense of loneliness and despair overwhelmed him, but he never allowed the emotions to seep through the cracks in his stoic mask, pushing his emotions into the deep recesses of his unconscious mind.

Clark wasn't sure how long he stood there, allowing Chloe to comfort him, but her soft voice shook him from his thoughts.

"Clark, come back to me. Breathe, Clark," she repeated over and over.

Only then, did he realize that he was breathing way too fast. He leaned against the counter when his shaky legs were no longer able to support him and sank to the ground, bringing Chloe down with him.

Let me know what you think. I will be posting probably two chapters tomorrow; and after that, I will endeavor to post once or twice a week. This is my first multi-chapter fic, so bear with me! :) I am passionate about writing, so I crave input, both positive and negative. Just as long as it remains polite and/or constructive. Thanks!


	4. Save Me

Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or any of the well-known characters associated with the show. However, I altered certain events … just because I can! Furthermore, some events happen out of order in this fic than how they occurred on the show. This fic takes place about a year after his return from Metropolis, so Clark is a senior in high school.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, pulling away from her and drawing up his knees to rest his head between them. "It'll pass in a minute."

"Don't apologize, Clark. You've been through a lot. It's completely normal," she said, rising and scrambling around in the cluttered kitchen.

"I'm not normal," he murmured.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," she said, opening and shutting drawers.

"What... are you... looking for?"

"Dishrag," she said as if it was obvious. "You need a cool cloth."

"I don't think there's one clean, Chlo," he sighed.

"Okay. How about an icepack?" she asked.

"In the freezer."

She bent down, icepack in hand, placing it gently on the back of his neck. Clark realized that he was actually perspiring which was unusual for him.

"Take deep breaths, Clark," she instructed, softly. "You have been taking on too much lately. That's why you need a stress-free evening filled with mindless chatter and dancing. Not to mention endless sarcasm and banter with yours truly," she said with a slight smile.

"Hey, kids. You, alright? Jonathan asked, moving unsteadily towards them.

Clark got up quickly, not wanting to worry his father.

"Yeah, Dad. Do you need something?"

"Nah. I'm alright," he said, as he rummaged through the cabinets. "Clark, did you see a bottle anywhere? I could've sworn I left it out on the counter."

"No, sir," he lied. "C'mon, Chloe. We're already late for our Senior prom," he said in a rush. "Thanks for letting us borrow the truck, Dad." He swiped the keys from the hook on the wall and offered his arm to Chloe as he sprinted out the door.

"Clark, slow down. Some of us are challenged in the super-powered department."

"Sorry, I just had to get out of there," he said, glancing at the darkening sky nervously. "Besides, I think it's gonna rain."

When they reached the passenger side of the battered pickup, Clark held out his hand for Chloe to grasp and she squeezed it tightly, while gracefully stepping inside the truck's musky interior. As Clark reached the opposite side, the cloud's followed through on their threatening presence, releasing torrents of rain. He fumbled with his keys and clambered inside, running his hair through his soaked locks.

"I like your hair combed back like that. It suits you," Chloe said huskily.

Clark's lips curled up into a genuine smile, revealing those perfect vampire-like teeth in the back that Chloe found irresistible. His eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Are you checking me out, Chlo?" he teased, leaning forward slightly.

"Oh, get over yourself, Kent," she quipped, punching him playfully on the arm.

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. He reached toward her, and her heart quickened in anticipation. His fingers inched closer to her leg...

His arm brushing her thigh lightly as he pulled open the glove box beneath the dashboard.

She blushed furiously and cleared her throat, hoping he didn't notice her body's reaction to his close proximity.

Clark pulled out a pink corsage wrapped in a clear box. He unwrapped the delicate rose, noting how the color matched her flushed cheeks. He smiled and raised his eyebrows as he caught her gaze. She held out her hand expectantly, and he gently slipped the flower on her delicate wrist. He allowed his fingers to drift across her smooth skin, before dropping a lingering kiss atop her knuckles. Chloe smoothed his hair back with her other hand, and he closed his eyes, breathing in her calming scent. She laughed softly as his dazed eyes met hers. "Okay, Prince Charming, let's get to the ball before this carriage transforms back into a pumpkin." She knew it was a lame joke, but Clark laughed appreciatively, ridding her completely of any self-deprecating thoughts.


	5. You Need Her

The ride to the school gymnasium was spent in comfortable yet contemplative silence, each person daydreaming of the exciting events to come as the fragile line between strong friendship and coupledom – that had previously separated them – was finally broken. Clark sighed contentedly, thankful to finally have found someone that he could open up to fully. Chloe had worked out his long-kept secret after tracking him down in Metropolis, her keen investigative abilities aiding her in the task. Incredibly, she had formed a startling picture from seemingly unrelated puzzle pieces, correctly concluding that the vigilante intimidating the criminal underground and Clark – the quiet farm boy – were one and the same. She had hidden her epiphany from him, only revealing it after Clark himself had confessed the secret of his heritage and abilities at his mother's urgent request that he do so.

His mind drifted to the day that changed both of their lives forever.

###

 _Chloe found Clark sitting in his loft, a small slice of a meteor rock posed in a precarious position above his wrist. Once he met her gaze, his desperation to escape the lies overflowed and the truth escaped his lips almost without his consent. He heard his mother's anxious heartbeat and footsteps as she approached them, but he couldn't face her. He stumbled slightly over his words and only continued when he heard Martha's whispered plea: "Keep going; you need her to know." His focus remained on Chloe, who held him as he sat on the couch sobbing and confessing everything. The well-hidden pale scars adorning his wrist's sensitive area revealed the raw pain that stirred deep within his soul, begging for release._

 _He hesitated for only a moment when his mom moved a bit closer to them, worried tears dotting her pale and sallow cheeks. The older woman stood in front of the pair, whispering continuous apologies and reassurances that only Clark could hear. She had a clear view of the relief and joy that swept across her son's tear-streaked face as Chloe simply stated, "You are more human than any other person I know."_

 _The resulting kiss they shared melted the cold depression surrounding Clark's heart and mind. A love that had been planted when they were kids started to bloom and blossom rapidly. Chloe– like his Mom and Dad – viewed his other-worldly abilities as a blessing, rather than a burden, en_ _couraging him as he endeavored to help others anonymously. She vowed to protect his secret and support the Kent family as Martha's health continued to deteriorate._

###

In mere moments, they pulled into a parking space that was conveniently close to the entrance. He glanced in her direction to find her studying him intensely.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, unusually timid.

"I didn't think you were into clichés, Chlo… this feels very much like all those chick flicks you claim to 'hate,'" he teased, using finger quotes at the end.

"Oh, shut up, dork! I'm serious!" she exclaimed, slightly exasperated.

"I was just thinking about how hard all of this would've been without you; you have been my anchor through all this turmoil – my safe harbor. Thank you . . . just for everything," he murmured, smiling softly.

"You're welcome, Clark . . ." The rest of her reply faded to background as a familiar scream pierced his consciousness.

Noticing his suddenly glazed expression, Chloe abruptly stops speaking. "Clark, what do you hear?" she demanded.

"Lana, she's in trouble . . . I have to go," he replied, an apology posed on the tip of his tongue.

"Clark, it's okay. You have to go. I understand . . . I'll save you a dance," she said, gently kissing his cheek.


	6. Twister

Clark Kent watched in horror as the twister consumed the once-love-of-his-life Lana Lang, lifting the pick-up truck where her limp form lay huddled in and devouring it among the dirt and debris. Without hesitation, he leaped into the unpredictable funnel of wind, ripping the door from its frame and covering her fragile body with his own.

Almost immediately, he felt a familiar weakness overwhelm him and the edges of his vision began to dim. He glanced to the side, and fear gripped him when he saw meteor rocks dancing amidst the whirlwind. Still he held on, remaining conscious so he would not accidentally crush the small body beneath him. Lana regained consciousness as pieces of the truck began to give way, the powerful winds sucking their haven away from them. Lana began to squirm frantically at the unfamiliar weight pressed against her and a scream erupted from her lips. Clark bit back his own moans of discomfort as he felt the meteorite and twisted metal slicing his now vulnerable flesh.

"Lana, calm down. It's just me," Clark managed in a loud, raspy voice.

"Clark, thank God. I thought I was trapped," she breathed out.

Clark tried to respond, but only managed a strangled groan.

Lana's foggy brain finally registered the absurdity of his presence and the current danger they were in, and she began to panic anew. "Wait, Clark?! What are you doing here?! You need to get out of here!"

"Had to save you...couldn't let you die…" he gasped. The winds began to diminish to a whisper, and then, stopped altogether. Clark twisted them around, so that his body would cushion their descent to the littered ground. They landed with a harsh "thud," knocking the wind from Clark's burning lungs.

"Clark, I think it's over," Lana whispered.

Clark lay sprawled upon his back, looking at the gray and creamy sky. He winced as the concrete scratched against the raw wounds on his back. Lana looked into his azure eyes, glazed with pain and carefully rolled off of him. Her throat was tight with emotion as she clambered to her feet. She couldn't believe he risked his life to save her yet again, and she could hardly bear seeing him hurt like this. She looked away from his still form, and blinked back tears.

"Clark, thank…" she managed before her world faded to black.

He shifted unto his all fours, and slowly stood; the world tilted and spun before him, but he managed to stay upright. He heard a soft "thud," and glanced over to his right in alarm. His blurry vision made out Lana's crumpled form; he guessed she had tried to stand also, but failed. He checked her pulse, and let out a breath in relief when he felt its steady rhythm, only slightly altered, beneath his fingers.

"She probably has a concussion or is in shock," he mused to himself.

He super-sped her to the Smallville Medical Center, jogged up to an ambulance bay and spotted an EMT reloading an empty gurney.

"Excuse me. I need help!" he breathed out.

"What seems to be the problem? Is it another Tornado victim?" he asked tiredly.

"Yes, I found her in a ditch near the bus station. She has a few minor cuts and bruises and I think she has a concussion."

The EMT, Jerry, took in his pale and haggard face, his torn suit, and battered body.

"You don't look good yourself, son. I think you need to get checked out too."

Clark paled further, fighting to keep himself from collapsing to the ground.

"No, I'm fine. Just help her, please."

 _Clark, where are you?_ a familiar and desperate voice cut through his thoughts.

Chloe…

Jerry relieved him from his heavy burden and placed the pretty brunette on a gurney. By the time he turned around to the lady's rescuer, he was gone.


	7. The Enemy Within

Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or any of the well-known characters associated with the show. However, I altered certain events … just because I can! Furthermore, some events happen out of order in this fic than how they occurred on the show. This fic takes place about a year after his return from Metropolis, so Clark is a senior in high school. Enjoy! Thanks to those who reviewed! I needed and appreciated the encouragement! Thanks also to all those who have taken time to read the story! Don't forget to favorite and/or follow if you've liked the story so far!

The flood had dissipated completely within 30 minutes – as if a hand had twisted the knob on the torrential rain off, slowly at first and then all at once, so Chloe ventured back outside to wait for Clark. It was taking him longer than she had anticipated, and she was getting worried. She glanced apprehensively at the overcast sky, and almost as if she had willed it, the sun peeked hesitantly from behind a lone, gray cloud. She walked behind the truck, pulling the tailgate down, before hopping gracefully upon it.

"Clark, where are you?" she muttered anxiously. The rays spilled down like a spotlight on an approaching figure in the distance – Clark – Chloe immediately recognizing his muscular stature, even from far away. His face was turned slightly upward, no doubt drinking in the warmth and strength the sun had always provided him. Chloe smiled affectionately at him, and his azure eyes sparkled upon seeing her, enveloping her whole being with a similar warmth and strength just with a single look. Her smile slowly faded though as he treaded closer to her and she got a better look at his condition.

"Clark, what happened?" she exclaimed, leaping from the truck-bed, jogging toward him, and quickly closing the distance between them. She noticed he had several superficial lacerations across his cheeks, while deeper ones appeared trail his torso where his white undershirt was torn, his jacket concealing the blood. Her hand automatically drifted toward his face, drifting lightly across the cuts, and smoothing back his wind-blown and muddy locks out of his eyes in a soothing gesture.

"Kryptonite?" she whispered fearfully. He closed his eyes, whether in confirmation or exhaustion, she didn't know, but as she felt his affirmative head nod, she concluded, it was both.

"But, why is it still affecting you? I thought once you were away from it, you recovered almost instantly?"

"There . . . was so much . . . might take longer . . . I'll be okay," he managed through clenched teeth. He sucked in a shaky breath, trying and failing to conceal a moan as he clutched his side. Her eyes automatically snapped in that direction.

"Clark? You're bleeding. . ." she gasped as she pulled back his jacket. "Why isn't it healing? Is the kryptonite still on you? Maybe small particles settled on your clothes with the debris." She didn't wait for a response as she ripped his jacket off, checked his pockets, found nothing, and tossed it away as far as she could.

"Chloe, I think . . . I'm gonna be sick," Clark gasped. He stumbled forward, gripping the tailgate for support as his stomach convulsed, expelling its contents. He continued to heave long after his stomach was empty, occasionally bringing up bile. Chloe had jumped out of the way just in time and was currently rubbing his back in soothing motions.

"I'm sorry," Clark mumbled once he had recovered slightly. "The pain . . . guess I'm not used to it," he said, mustering up a weak smile. He tried to straighten up, but his world dipped and faded into a spinning kaleidoscope of blurred colors.

"Dizzy . . . so dizzy . . . Have to go check on dad," he slurred, once again attempting to stand. By then, a crowd had gathered to investigate the commotion. Chloe dipped quickly under his arm, steadying him as she led him to the passenger side. Out of nowhere, a hand reached out to open the door and helped settle him inside. Chloe turned to face her assistant and recognized him only as a fellow classmate in a few of her advanced classes. He was tall and gawky - thick black-rimmed glasses framed his thin face. His eyes were a soft, chocolate brown – their shape unappealingly prominent behind the spectacles. His brow furrowed in concern as he studied Clark.

"Will he be alright?" he asked, quietly.

"He'll be fine," Chloe assured him in a tight voice that betrayed her worry. When he continued to look skeptical, she swallowed back her anxiety and tried to sound calm and confident.

"He just got into a bit of a scuffle. I'll make sure he gets checked out. Thanks for the help," she said, clearly dismissing him. He and the crowd retreated back inside once she climbed behind the wheel and closed the door. She glanced over at Clark, having to stifle a sob at his paling features.

Tears glittered in his cerulean eyes as Clark studied his best friend – no, his girlfriend. The title caused his lips to quirk upwards as he savored that unmistakable fact. They had been riding in tense silence for about 10 minutes, while Clark had dozed in fitful doses. Chloe kept sneaking worried glances at him – her knuckles white from the steel grip she maintained on the wheel.

"I'll be okay, Chlo. The sun is already helping a bit," he paused, his breath hitching as a rush of burning pain flowed through his veins. The sun only took a slight edge off the pain and the delayed recovery was troublesome, but Chloe looked close to breaking and he had to reassure her.

"A long, hot shower should wash away any left-over residue from the Kryptonite," he continued at Chloe's skeptical silence.

They pulled into his driveway and Clark let out a breath in relief as he analyzed the scene in front of him. It looked like the farm had escaped basically unscathed, apart from scattered debris from the heavy rain and winds. It looked like the tornado had skipped their house altogether, and he hoped the neighboring houses had also escaped any significant damage or fatalities.

As they reached the porch, his dad opened the door and hurried to meet them.

"Clark, thank goodness. Some dang private investigator came while you were gone . . . said he had proof of your 'meteor-infected' abilities . . . Run him off with a shot gun . . . all he had were some blurry photos . . . nothing concrete. . . Let's just say, I'm pretty sure that he won't be back again; I didn't let him inside . . . Didn't want him to get a chance to bug the place . . . But you might want to be more careful . . ." he trailed off and took a deep breath before continuing.

"I know you've been taking on too much. That's my fault. His visit was a wake-up call for me. I haven't been here for you – and I'm sorry. You needed me and I failed you. It won't happen again. If I had been helping you out more around here, you wouldn't have got careless with your abilities. I just want to thank you for picking up the pieces when I was trapped beneath my grief. I love you, son," he finished, breathless from his monologue. Throughout his speech, his head had been hanging low in shame, but now, he finally faced his son – his adult son – who had kept this farm running while simultaneously saving the lives of those in grave peril, expecting and receiving no acknowledgement from his grieving father.

"Dad . . . you're back!" Clark exclaimed weakly. He extricated himself from Chloe's grip too embrace him, but as soon as he did, his legs gave away. Before he hit the ground – he felt his dad's strong calloused hands wrap around him and halt his descent.

"Clark, what happened? Where's the Kryptonite?" he asked, panic-stricken.

"I think it's inside him," Chloe uttered quietly, as she ducked back under Clark's arm to support the opposite side.


End file.
